Yesterday, it seems, my daughter was a newborn baby.
Today, she’s seven-and-a-half. She insists on adding “a half” even though it’s a few days from being true. She’s in a hurry to grow up.
I’m not in a hurry. I want her to slow down. But she’s growing up so fast that I’m afraid that I’ll wake up tomorrow and she’ll be eighteen and headed for college.
And the more I try to hang on to each moment the faster they seem to slip past. The only thing I can do is let go. Live in each moment. Be present to her right now.
Go to the park.
Build a pillow fort.
Each of the moments we have together are one-of-a-kind. Each is precious. I must be present to each one.
And then let each one of them go.